Last Published on Facebook on August 11, 2011

Adding it here to maybe convince myself to finish it.

Joey Beaufort was a world renowned

professional videogamer. Every serious gamer knew of and looked up to him.

Atari, EA, and Sony were frequently at his doorstep with another game for him

to review and critique.  If they could only get the endorsement of

“J. Beau,” their new title was sure to be a hit. Joey’s stamp of

approval was not unlike Oprahs’ highly regarded booklist.

           There was the downside for these companies,

however. If he didn’t like it, it was as good as the end of that game, with

very few exceptions. Other video game critics felt that Joey’s opinion was

morphing every game into some kind of a knock-off of Call of Duty.

Nevertheless, new titles were breaking sales records like never before, since

they started seeking out Joey’s opinion. 

           He hadn’t become the nation’s most influential

videogamer by mistake. Joey B was undoubtedly a master at every videogaming

genre. Through numerous tournaments and contests he showcased his gaming

prowess. He once set a world record by walking through Halo 3 in just under an

hour and a half. 

           There wasn’t a single game he couldn’t master.

Sure, he picked up on shooter’s the quickest, but even games like Rockband were

not outside of his abilities. From Madden to Final Fantasy, J. Beau could not

be beaten. He would accept any challenge, and make any challenger look like a first

timer. 

           He travelled all over the world, to compete

and win. While his videogaming skills were impeccable, and his composure

unflappable, nearly all of competitors walked away from the match feeling good

about himself. As charming as we was talented, he was not a typical electronics

nerd. After a thorough digital thrashing, Joey would always embrace his

opponent with his genuine smile that announced that conciliatory “good

game.” Even if you hated him, you couldn’t help but love him.  

           “Eleventh annual Tokyo tournament,”

Joey read aloud to himself. “I’ve been waiting all year for this!”

Indeed, this was the email he had been waiting for all year. 

“August fifth through the eighth. They added a whole day this year. I can’t…”

Then he saw it. That man was staring right at

him, screaming in agony as his flesh evaporated from his face. He had played

some gruesome games before, even so, this game him a start. He scrolled on down

the email to read the title of the unreleased game which would be the focus of

this tournament. 

“Hiroshima – The Horrors Within. So

that’s why his face was melted.”  He said outloud, feeling a little

relief. For a moment he had forgotten this was a videogaming email. It seemed

all too real. Flattened buildings, burning bodies, expressions of pain. “I

bet this one’s going to be in 3-D. I hate 3-D games.” 

He read on. The feeling of excitement quickly

returned as the email detailed times, places, and instructions. Joey, of

course, would have everything paid for, and his own private room, with all of

the–pizza– his heart desired. 

August 4th rolled around, and Joey kissed his

wife goodbye as he turned to walk throught that terminal gate, destined

for Tokyo. The flight was long but he spend most of his time excercising his

new Nintendo DS 3-D, in anticipation for this “Hiroshima” game. He

still did not prefer the 3-d, but at least he was getting used to it. He was

left mostly to himself on his first class flight, except for the stewardess,

who must have recognized him, because she kept looking over his shoulder and

asking if he needed anything. He was used to unusual people. After all, video

gamers often master the games at the expense of their social skills. 

Finally the flight from Atlanta arrived in

Tokyo. He hailed a cab and presented the driver with the address the email had

provided. “11 International Avenue, please.” “What?” asked

the cabbie. Joey repeated, and the cabbie replied, “Well, American, it

appears you have arrived at your destination. That is the address of this

airport terminal!” 

Convinced he had made a mistake, he pulled out

his iPhone. But to his great confusion he had not made a mistake. How could

this be? The airport is no place for a videogame tournament. 

The iPhone began to ring. Hiroshima was the

name on the caller ID, and a picture of the red, firey mushroom cloud covered

the screen. He answered. 

“Hello?” 

“Go to the second floor. Walk to the end

of the hall.” The voice was deep and slow, yet deliberate. “On your

left there will be a door labeled Tokyo Tournament. Wait in front of it.”

He heard a click, and then silence. The voice was gone. 

Joey stood, confused and a little frightened.

Was this a new angle on gaming? Is this tournament not open to public view? Is

it really going to take place in the airport? He decided standing in the door

was not going to get him anywhere, so he picked his bags and headed back up the

esclators to the second floor. He walked to the end of the hallway, where, on

his left he found a door labeled Tokyo Tournament. No sooner had he read the sign

than the door opened. He walked in. It was a room of pure white. There were no

discernable walls, corners, ceilings or fixtures. The light seemed to come from

everywhere. It was so bright he had to shut his eyes. Yes, if he could just

shut his eyes he would feel better. Much better. Just rest them for a while. If

he could just lay down, just a little rest, he would then figure this room out.

Sleep. Just for a min. . .

He woke up suddenly. He heard the same voice

from the telephone call say something in Japanese, but he couldn’t make it out.

Everything was blurry, like he was looking through a pair of glasses that

weren’t his. He soone realized it was because he had some kind of goggles on.

In fact, he had been dressed in a WWII era US Army Ranger uniform, fitted

complete with a parachute. “A parachute?” 

“Sir he’s awake.”

“There’s an island down there, about ten

thousand feet. That’s where the tournament is taking place. If you want to

compete, that’s where you have to go. And there’s only one way down.”

“What about the…” Joey started,

but was interrupted but a stern look and an open palm that said

“silence.”

“He will explain everything on the

island.”

His features were finally coming into focus.

Tall, muscular, with a slightly vacant expression. He didn’t have time to

notice much else before he was being shoved out the door. “Just remember

to pull the cord when you’re about halfway down.” This last second advice

came from a woman comparable in beauty to his own girlfriend. In fact, she had

the same blue eyes, but was blonde. Those eyes.

WHOOOOSH. He was falling. It was at once the

most exhilarating yet terrifying feeling he had ever experienced. After a

moment of falling he regained his composure. He began to notice the most

beautiful azul waters below him, and in the middle of his sight was a lush

green island. In the center of the island, placed almost like a bull’s eye, was

a crimson dot. Joey’s best guess was that it was the building the tournament

was taking place in. Though at this point the tournament was the last thing on

his mind. 

He pulled the ripcord, but a few moments too

late. He was coming in too fast. He shifted his weight to try and counteract

it, but it made no difference. Joey slammed hard into the roof of the building.

Everything was black. 

“Wake up you knucklehead.” 

The sound of people chattering surrounded him.

He didn’t know if it was the noise or the pounding in his head, but it felt as

though a jackhammer was behind his eyes, banging its way through his

skull. 

“Where am I?” Joey squeeked out.

“Welcome to the Dome.” 

 _______________________________________________________________________

                “No, you idiot. I thought I told you to print this in Times New Roman. And hurry up, I

needed this ten minutes ago.”

            Dr. Reynolds usually had more patience with his assistant Tom, but with the Tournament

starting today, he was running out of time. He needed the list.

            “Sorry sir…r-right away s-sir.”

            Reynolds took a deep breath in, and let out a great sigh. Two years of work all came

down to this day. He got up from his desk and sulked over to the window of his

downtown Tokyo office. Miles and miles of buildings and road stretched out

before him, detailed by thousands of street and window lights arranged like

freckles on the face of the great city they were a part of. Rising on the

horizon was the sun, not yet itself visible. Its light crept out, opening the

sky to day as reluctantly as a child wakes up to it. He stood there, watching

the night fade and the sun cover the city like a blanket. Nearly fifteen

minutes had passed before Tom returned with the list.

            “Here it is, sir.”

            “Thank you.” Reynolds replied, with a little extra politeness. He felt the tiniest bit of

remorse for how he treated his assistant a few minutes ago. “How about getting

me some coffee, Tom? This is the second time I’ve watched the sun come up since

I last was asleep.”

            He fiddled with the list in his hands for a moment, and turned to sit back down. Sunlight

was now streaming into the office, striking the side of Reynolds’ head on its

way in. “And close those blinds when you get back.”

            After Tom left, he pulled a large ring of keys from his pocket. It was the smallest gold

ring on the chain that unlocked the large compartment under his desk. From

within the compartment he pulled out a large leather briefcase with gold

accents. He took one last look at the list, placed it inside, and locked it

just as Tom returned.

            “Hey, Tom.”

            “Yes, sir?”

            “Don’t worry about the blinds. Call the helicopter. It’s time to go.”

____________________________________________________________________________

                A minute passed. Joey slowly began to get his bearings. Above him was a beautiful blue sky and a few wispy clouds floating softly over the treetops. Replaced by the sound of a slight

breeze through the trees, the deafening voices that had pounded on his eardrums

ceased.

                “Do you know where you are?” said the man who awoke him.

                “Who are you? What were those voices? And no I have no idea where I am. Didn’t you

just say we were in a Dome or something?” It was a partially true answer. He

recognized this place, but it couldn’t be – it was thousands of miles away.

Baffled, he maintained ignorance.

                “I believe I asked the first question. Now, you’re telling me you don’t recognize

this place?”

                “Not at all,” he lied. Suddenly he remembered how he got here, about the mysterious

phone call, the door in the airport, passing out, and falling through the sky.

Fear swept over him, but decided there was no point in panicking. 

                “Now we both know that’s not true. You’ve been here before. You used to come here to

play softball when you were in college. See that, I know you recognize that

building,” he pointed to a creamy brick and stone hi-rise on the left hand side

of the cluster of buildings. Its characteristic wide base and tall and thin

tower made it unmistakable.

                “No,” he said, but it was a subconscious response. He was too busy staring at the

skyline. He knew exactly where he was, right down to the softball field he was

standing on. The man must have realized this, because he continued on as if he

had answered yes.

                “Yes, now you see. That’s the hotel where you won your first tournament. Not that

impressive, really. The St. Louis Videogame conference never had great

competition until you became big. Even then your lack of attendance doomed the

conference to failure. Either way, I felt like this was the perfect place for

the Test.”

                He knew he was standing in Forest Park. He knew that was the Chase Hotel, where he met

his wife and won his first tournament. He could see the apartment building they

lived in when they first got married.  He

knew that the Gateway Arch was hiding behind the oasis of the Central West End

in front of him. None of that made it any easier to believe. Then the man’s

words registered in his head. “Did you say, the Test?”

                “That’s right. Why don’t we take a walk?”

                He nodded in agreement. Then something extraordinary happened. Everything around

him went black, and the air seemed to vanish from his lungs. As quickly as it

disappeared it reappeared, only this time he found himself at another familiar

location. His breath returned as he examined his surroundings once again. He

was standing in the shadow of the six hundred foot arch. Its perfect curvature

glistened in the sun, dutifully separating the muddy waters of the river from

the concrete and steel of the city. The face of every building in downtown St.

Louis seemed to look up to the monument with respect and admiration. He looked

around at the green lawn and finally noticed the absence of people around him.

                “Where are all the people? How did we get here? We just travelled five miles in one

second? What’s going on? Tell me who you are!”

                “Perhaps I do owe you some answers now. You came here for the Tokyo Tournament, which I

helped create. All of the other competitors are in Tokyo now, competing…”

                Joey interrupted, “YOU MEAN THE TOURNAMENT HAS STARTED WITHOUT ME?”

                “Now please, let me finish. We’ve known for a long time there’s something special

about you. We designed the tournament to pick out worthy competitors and

evaluate their abilities first hand. Unfortunately, there has been only one

other person to make it this far. I’m sure you remember Sally Hammel?”

                “Well yeah, she was the greatest female videogamer to ever live, until she

mysteriously disappeared.”

                “She was the first to make it this far, but regrettably she did not pass the test.”

                “So what happened to her?”

                “She died of course. We have no tolerance for failure. Out there, there are no save points, no

re-dos, no extra lives, and no cheat codes. That’s why we only pick the best.

You’re our next candidate.”

                “You still haven’t said for what,” Joey said, trying to fight back the fear welling

up inside of him, creeping up out of his stomach and into his throat,

tightening his airways.

                “First things first. This is what we call a holographic dome. This is where the game

will take place. If you haven’t realized it by now, we are not really in Saint

Louis. This dome is capable of creating any environment with any conditions,

and can even simulate real people and their actions. I can control the Dome,

but you, the player, cannot. And if you die here, you die in reality. There are

no second chances.”

                Still confused, Joey looked up and said, “But, I still don’t understand why?”

                “You must save them all.”

                “Save who?”

                The man smiled.   

                At the snap of the man’s fingers the Dome turned blacked and he felt the air once

again leave his lungs, only this time it did not return so quickly. Ahead he

could see a strange gray fog coming his way. He breathed it in as met him, and

with a feeling of satisfaction he fell asleep in the blackness, not knowing

what he would find when he would awake.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

                The smell of steaming cappuccino was the first thing Joey noticed as he awoke.

Though the smell was strong, the bed was so comfortable and his eyelids so

heavy he couldn’t help but drift back to sleep. Finally, he heard a voice,

“Joooe-y! Get outta bed!”

                “Coming,” he replied instinctively. As he sat up in bed the memories of recent events

came back to him. The airport, the island, St. Louis, Hammel. It all seemed

like a dream. Maybe it was a dream. But the man’s words kept repeating in his

mind, “You must save them all.”

                He got out of bed and walked to the window.  Just

down the street was the Basilica, and in the distance the Arch stood out above

the skyline. At the corner of the street he could see people sitting at tables

on the sidewalk, drinking coffee and watching others as they passed.

                “Your coffee’s getting cold,” a sweet, but slightly frustrated voice said. He

recognized it as his wife. He turned to her and asked, “Honey, what are we

doing in St. Louis?”

                It was like a jet engine ignited in his face. He collapsed onto the bed and held his

hands against his ears, but the voices still came. “Don’t question!”

                “Joey, what’s wrong?”

                “I-it’s just a… I have a headache.”

                “Well, what do you expect? That crazy person smacked you pretty hard last night!”

                “I’ll be fine… I’ll take some Tylenol. Thanks for the coffee.”

                “Ask her to leave.”

                “Honey, I need a few minutes alone if you don’t mind.”

                “O-okay. Well I’ll be in the other room if you need anything.”

                She walked out of the room obediently but with a slight look of worry on her face.

As she left Joey watched her carefully. She seemed to indeed be his wife, but

the voices reminded him of the Dome. He was quite sure it had not been a dream.

                “Open the briefcase.”

                It seemed as though there was no better option, so he looked around the room, saw

the briefcase on the desk, and sat down at it. With handsome black leather and

gold accents, it was a briefcase unlike any he had seen before, but he would

not have much time to admire it.

<p>           “Five two seven.”</p>

Once again he obeyed.  When the briefcase opened he was surprised to

see how empty it was.  It contained a paper with list of names and addresses, a 9mm handgun, and $50,000 in cash. The inside of the briefcase was equally as handsome as the out, trimmed with red

velvet material as soft as anything he had touched before. On the inside of the

lid was a gold plated label:

GRAND BOULEVARD 

the leader in briefcases 

Model 08.22.14–5:27 

St. Louis, Missouri

                He grabbed the list and started to read it. Anderson, Baker, Cooper…  there were about 20 names on the list, organized alphabetically. Below each name was an address with a date and

time.  After a few minutes of pondering, Joey slipped on a pair of jeans, stuffed the cash in his pocket, hid the gun in

his coat, and with the list in his hand, took off for the first address.

__________________________________________________________________________